


The Heritage of Stray Lines

by slightlyjillian



Series: The Negotiation Of Lineage [5]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bromance, F/M, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>continuation of <i>Dawn Is A Feeling</i> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/3792">The Negotiation Of Lineage</a> series. Fantasy AU. Living in the world they fought for is never as easy as the victors would wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Heritage of Stray Lines

**Author's Note:**

> I experimented with a different POV for this part. I really had no plan to continue this, but I was bitten with ideas.

_They keep a man in the basement. He wears a mask and is not allowed to have visitors. I know about the mask because I overhead Uncle Tomas talking about needing to get one made with a different sort of metal. Isn't that strange?_

The boy looked up from his writing when he heard a knock at the door. "Come in," he said. Then he repeated it more loudly. He reached for the nearby lantern and increased the flame so it lit the corner of the room a little better.

"Hello, Sébastien," said Lucre. The other boy was twice his age and his height. The room shrank as Lucre came inside.

"You're not supposed to be here," Sébastien whispered. His palms began to sweat and he set down the feather pen. Lucre wrinkled his nose making a common, recognizable expression of disdain.

Closing the door behind him, Lucre crossed his arms over his chest. The dark-haired boy let his long curls fall forward hiding most of his face except for the broad, bitter smile. He said, "Then I suppose you aren't interested in knowing that your father's arrived."

Sébastien pulled his legs up so that his feet pushed against the seat. He wrapped his arms around his knees and might have closed his eyes except he couldn't not watch Lucre. He was the nephew of Relena Peacecraft, deposed Queen of the mainland. That woman and her brother had ruled for nearly sixteen years before Queen Halyna had retaken the throne for the kingdom and the colonies.

At her coronation, Halyna had made Relena her prisoner. Lucre received a generous pardon from his birthright, because--until the first colony retook the north--Lucre had been the heir and prince of the nation. He'd only been ten years old at the time, but old enough to be a threat and history dictated that he should have been killed in order to end the line of Peacecrafts.

Nonetheless, Halyna had demonstrated grace toward Lucre against the guidance of her parents and many others on her main council. Sébastien did not begrudge the angry sixteen year-old his life. Because it was a similar pardon from death bestowed by Halyna that had spared Sébastien himself.

In some ways, that meant Lucre and Sébastien had a common doubt which they could never shake from their thoughts, not completely.

_Am I a traitor? Could I become one? And what would it take...?_

"Listen, my boy," Uncle Tomas would say. "You have two advantages." A steady finger would press into Sébastien's forehead. "You have the brains of a noble woman." Then the hand would move to cover Sébastien's shirt. "And you have have the heart of a Gundam knight."

"How is that an... advantage?" Sébastien would stumble over the pronunciation.

"If you listen to both, they will keep you in perfect balance." The answer seemed to make sense, but Sébastien often had found himself puzzling over that mystery while staring toward the dark of his ceiling.

"What are you doing?" Lucre's voice pulled Sébastien away from his memories. "I thought you'd be glad. You get to see your father."

Sébastien didn't think it was as simple as Lucre liked to think, and when pressed, Lucre refused to talk about his own father. No one talked about Lucre's father, Milliardo Peacecraft. Or the man in the lower dungeon.

Then a strike across his face nearly dropped Sébastien from his seat. He lifted his arms for balance and defence. "Stop," he cried out. Bracing his legs for support, he fought back tears of pain while he stared back into Lucre's too-close face.

"You... stop _crying_," Lucre cautioned. "You have nothing to be sad about."

This was why Lucre wasn't allowed into Sébastien's rooms. Still, the younger boy merely wiped away the wet from his cheeks. Halyna didn't like it when they were caught fighting. And if Trowa Barton was in the castle, then Sébastien wanted very much to be allowed to see him.

^^^

Sébastien followed Lucre to the courtyard, but slowed his pace so the other went on ahead. If he could, Sébastien would disappear into the crowds to watch the patrol return. Already, he could see a couple of the serving girls had fallen into step with Lucre. Their smiles and laughter could be heard even at a distance. Perhaps he could go unnoticed. Sébastien stepped around the corner and into the sunshine.

"Hey kiddo." Strong arms grabbed and lifted him.

"_Uncle Tomas_," Sébastien protested, but didn't mind so much. "I'm almost eight."

Nichol's brown eyes narrowed but it wasn't enough to hide the twitch of his smile. "I shouldn't say what I'm thinking then..."

"I'm _not_ short," Sébastien grumbled, knowing that it was true. Everyone commented on his stature when they met him. Those he saw more often, his tutors and the various regulars in court couldn't let a day go without pointing out his lacking height. _Are you sure that you're Trowa's?_ or _With that fair hair, perhaps he is Quatre's?_

"Nichol," Lucre acknowledged them appearing without his female admirers. The boy's blue eyes flickered to Sébastien briefly before returning to Nichol with some measure of respect. "How long has it been since we last saw Barton?"

"Seven months? Eight?" Nichol shifted. Sébastien braced his arms across Nichol's nearest shoulder and watched the other people gathering in the courtyard.

"Why does he keep going on these diplomatic trips? It's not as if the south is going to quit supporting Queen Halyna." Lucre wobbled as bodies moved around him, blocking his view. Sébastien was briefly glad Nichol had picked him up. He had a clear line of vision to the inner gates.

"Why do you think?" Nichol tapped Sébastien.

He had often wondered himself. "Because it's the right thing to do?" _Because Halyna wants to keep my parents away from me..._

"Heero and Hilde won't always hold the south," Nichol said. "The north needs to take time to listen to the colonies and the south. It's a good precedent."

"Are you saying that's where the Peacecrafts went wrong?" Lucre's tone had an edge of hurt.

"Boy-o," Nichol shook his head. Sébastien watched the swing of the grey-streaked hair. "Nothing so simple. Be remembering the promises that you made to Halyna."

"I do," Lucre retorted.

_Did he give his word to stay out of my room?_ Sébastien wondered how seriously Lucre took his promises. Anything else Lucre had to say was cut short by a ceremonial noise of long horn trumpets. Polite applause and a few playful cheers started as the gate was pushed open.

Watching for his father, Sébastien twisted to see the horses, shining from the heat. The blue and gold colors of Halyna's banner were stitched across every uniform as well as the saddle blankets. These meetings, as Lucre suggested, were mostly ceremonial. But the formality took most of the year. Sébastien suspected that Nichol wanted to go with them, but he stayed in the north continuing to tutor Lucre and, he hoped, so Nichol could remain for Sébastien's lessons as well.

Then Trowa saw them, dismounted and leaving the horse for a stable boy, made his way toward where they stood.

"Sébastien." Trowa tilted his head. For a long awkward length of time, the boy found he couldn't breathe while waiting to hear what his father would say next. "You've gotten bigger."

He must have made a sound of protest, because Nichol laughed. "It's true, but our boy doesn't know it. Not as dramatic without the _eight month gap_ between visits." Nichol sounded snappish at the last, which made Sébastien smile. "What in the name of all the gods made your trip last that long?"

Trowa's smile disappeared for a moment, long enough that those who knew him well would know something was wrong. For Sébastien, it seemed as if the sun had gone behind the clouds even when the smile returned.

"We can talk about this later, but I should say that we're going to have many guests in the near future," Trowa answered.

Nichol put Sébastien down. Trowa's arm moved enough that his fingertips were settled along the boy's shoulders. Unlike Uncle Tomas, Sébastien's father declined many overt signs of affection with him. Trowa continued, "Everyone is going to have to be on their best behavior."

"Is this about her age again?" Nichol muttered defensively. "She's only twenty-two."

"And somewhat the concern that what afflicted Hilde would pass along to her daughter," Trowa nodded.

Nichol swore. Then glancing down at Sébastien, he apologized, "Lucre, will you make sure Sébastien gets to the hall for the dinner celebration?"

The other boy, who had followed the conversation with keen interest, nodded. Then he gave Sébastien a curious, sharp look.

_Why doesn't anyone else notice?_ Sébastien wondered.

"We'll both see you at the feast," Nichol reassured him, prying his fingers lose of Sébastien's grip. The boy hadn't even realized that he'd latched onto his guardian's hand.

^^^

"Queen Halyna will have a short dynasty indeed, if she can't get with an heir." Lucre walked too fast and Sébastien struggled to keep up. He considered just giving up and walking at his own pace, but the palace still had servants who had served Noventa or the Peacecrafts and they had little sympathy for an ill-gotten little boy. Sébastien didn't understand completely, except Nichol explained that if Trowa had children, like Sébastien, they became strong candidates for the throne.

"She can't have an heir. She isn't married yet," Sébastien commented, out of breath.

Lucre looked back and laughed, but he reduced the length of his paces so Sébastien found it easier to keep up with the dark-headed boy.

"Yes, that's right," Lucre agreed. "Maybe she's waiting to marry you."

Shocked, Sébastien's mouth dropped open. He coughed briefly from the intake of dry air. "I'm only eight! I can't."

"I'm a man," Lucre confided. "I'm old enough, but she won't have me because I'm the whelp of a traitor."

"Are you a traitor?"

"It doesn't matter," Lucre said. "Hurry up or grow longer legs."

"Do you like Halyna?"

"It doesn't matter," Lucre repeated with such force Sébastien could see the spit.

^^^

For all the trouble of keeping with Lucre, Sébastien basked in the attention of his father during the feast. Trowa made space so that he could sit at one side with Nichol on the other. Both Trowa and Nichol had welcomed place at the head table with Queen Halyna, but instead they chose to sit a table down to be with Sébastien.

"Oh, I don't like those at all." Sébastien pointed at the spear of fish meat Trowa requested from the serving girl.

"Our lad hardly eats anything," Nichol interjected indicating that he wanted the same dish. "But perhaps he can tell the difference between a fish prepared by the colony and the mangling of the mainland kitchen staff."

"It does suffer somewhat the farther it travels inland," Trowa agreed.

"Will I get to have fish from the colony?" Sébastien asked around a bite of potato. He waited while the men chewed, long coming in their answer.

"Maybe they have something similar along the pier?" Nichol suggested.

"Where I see Mama?" Sébastien perked up. He'd not seen his mother since his sixth birthday. She had given him a small figurine of a dolphin which he kept in a drawer by his bed. He would take it out and polish the top fin with his thumb while imagining her on the boat with Aunt Sally. Lucre told him that his mother was banished to the boats. Nichol said that Sylvia Noventa had made a special effort to make sure Sébastien could be born, but that her decision came with a cost.

"Yes, most of our supply comes from the fishermen there," Nichol confirmed when Trowa said nothing. They ate quietly letting the noise of the common hall surround them. Nichol spoke again, "Perhaps we could ask Halyna if we could go together, the three of us, on your next trip."

"You want to discuss this now?" Trowa looked over Sébastien's head. "Next you'll say we should take Lucre. Remember you're the only one he minds."

"Not exactly true," Nichol countered. "That soldier, Alex..."

"The one who changes sides as easily as he does clothing? Why you keep Alex around..."

"Because if Halyna didn't pardon the palace then she'd have no staff," Nichol interrupted. Sébastien looked between them, although neither man had stopped focusing on cutting at his meal.

Wanting to be part of the conversation, Sébastien added the only piece of information that he knew about the person in question. "Lucre says that Alex knows the best whore houses."

Nichol barked a surprised laugh, but slapped his hand over Sébastien's mouth. Trowa dropped his fork, but set his head in his hand with a slight smile. Trowa said, "Fine, perhaps we should take my boy with us next time--if Halyna will allow it."

"We do seem to rack up the favors," Nichol said. "Although, with what we had to collect are we in her debt or does she owe us..."

"Don't joke, Nichol." Trowa glanced around the room. "This place is going to be full of politicians soon. We can't be too careful."

"But I read Dorothy's report. Who is against us?" Nichol looked over. Sébastien nibbled at his next piece of potato, still wearing the odd sensation of Nichol's fingers hushing him from speech.

"Until this place has a lively nursery, we can't take any chances," Trowa murmured. "And we've got more people to protect than just Halyna this time." In the oddest gesture of affection, he leaned over then and Sébastien felt a snuffled kiss in his hair.

"Papa," Sébastien giggled, wiping at his head. "Not where people can see."

^^^

He did not see much of his father over the next few days. Nichol rounded him up for routine lessons: to the stables for horseback riding with old Virgo, the knight's yard for sword practice, then reading and writing which Sébastien did very well.

"You pick this up so quickly," Nichol smiled. "I'm going to have to get someone else to teach you soon. You'll pass me."

"The brains of a noble woman." Sébastien proudly pointed at his forehead.

Nichol glanced at the floor. "Perhaps we should keep that just between us. For the time being."

"Heart of a Gundam knight," finished Sébastien, thumping his chest.

"Did you teach him that?" Trowa had quietly opened the door, so it was the three of them in Sébastien's sitting room.

"The perfect balance," Sébastien remembered. "I must keep it in balance." He and Nichol were sitting at the table with paper and ink everywhere around them. For some reason, Nichol had him recounting the lineage of all five colonies. He'd crowed over his own connections to the third island in the cluster. But the laughter seemed gone with the serious expression on Trowa's face.

Stepping closer, Trowa put his hand on Nichol's shoulder. "Sébastien, you're very clever." Trowa kept eye contact and not wanting to fail, Sébastien tried not to blink. "Things around the palace are going to be very different over the next few weeks. It won't be like the other summers when I've come back from the south when we could do whatever we wanted for a short time. I'm going to be in meetings."

Sébastien swallowed, "All the time?"

"A good deal of time," Trowa nodded. "But it won't just be me. They'll want you there as well."

"It'll be like lessons," Nichol added. "Just listen to what everyone's saying, and if you have any questions we'll explain it to you later."

"Sounds dull," Sébastien commented earning another laugh from his dark-haired guardian.

"I promise I didn't teach him that," Nichol entreated. He shifted his weight as if Trowa's grip had tightened on his arm.

Stumbling onto a thought, Sébastien asked, "Will Halyna be there too?"

"Yes," Trowa answered slowly.

Another terrifying thought crossed Sébastien's logic. He bit his lip, then whispered, "They're not going to make me marry Halyna?"

Nichol cringed again, "I didn't give him that idea either." Then released, he rubbed at his shoulder.

"The best thing to do, is just be listening. You don't have to say anything. And I will be with you. So if anyone asks you a question, I can answer it." Trowa's reply reassured Sébastien considerably.

^^^

"We won't sit at the main table." Nichol steered Sébastien toward chairs that had been set along the perimeter of the beautiful room. Sébastien had never seen it before. His feet nearly slid across the wood polished well enough he could see his own reflection. The cushion of the chair had been stuffed so plump that it protected the back of his knee from the press of the wooden frame.

Sébastien wanted to know who the other finely dressed people were. A man sitting at the far side of the center table was so striking that Sébastien could barely look away from his midnight black eyes and hair.

"That's Wufei from the fifth colony. He seems to have an empty seat by him. Odd that." Nichol leaned toward Sébastien's ear. "Colonies typically send two representatives. They make many decisions from the heart, so to make a balanced decision they bring two hearts to a conversation. In case one is blinded to an important truth."

Sébastien stared. Everywhere was color and smells. Servants rushed around, nearly invisible, but bringing steaming drinks with exotic aromas.

"I'm thirsty," Sébastien whispered.

Nichol raised an eyebrow. He said, "Don't let your father catch you speaking." Nonetheless, he signaled one of the servants and made a request.

A moment later, Sébastien recognized Quatre Winner who was friends with his father and Nichol. The blonde man was from the fourth colony and next to him was a handsome young man with darkly tanned skin.

"That's Omri." Nichol saw Sébastien looking. "He met Halyna while she was living on the fourth colony with your father and me. He was a great help in establishing her rule. If we have an opportunity, I'll introduce you to him." Sébastien nodded.

As others took their seats, the conversation levels became more moderate. Sébastien recognized Duo Maxwell and his nephew, a broad faced youth with narrow set eyes and a wide grin. Heero Yuy slipped into the room with little preamble. A delicate pitcher of water poured water into a glass set near his crossed arms.

"Halyna also represents the first colony so she is their second heart," Nichol clarified.

Sébastien fidgeted. His fingers on either side of his legs pushed into the cushion. He watched as his father came in next. Trowa was flanked by a woman with brilliant red hair and vast amounts of her skin remained uncovered.

"Ah, Tomas. Who..." Sébastien pulled Nichol's sleeve. Seeing Sébastien, the woman came straight toward them.

"Hello, Sébastien," said the woman. Her accent made his name sound lyrical. "I am your aunt."

"Catherine is your father's sister," Nichol said. But the woman acted as if Nichol hadn't said anything.

"Hello," Sébastien said in a small voice. She waited as if she'd expected something from him, and the word alone was enough to make her face illuminate with a shimmering smile. She ran her fingers through the hair that Sébastien knew hung flat and too long by his eyes.

"You look a lot like your papa at this age," she said as if in confidence. "I must borrow him to sit with me in this meeting. I hope you don't mind."

"Cathy, I thought you could sit with Barthomieu," Trowa indicated a lad about Lucre's age. He had copper-colored hair like Catherine but very white eyes.

She frowned briefly, then spoke to Sébastien, "This is your cousin, my son."

With interest, Barthomieu extended a greeting to his younger relative. Sébastien reciprocated. Then Trowa sat at Sébastien's side and watched as their relatives took places at the table to represent the third colony.

"I'm surprised she came," Nichol admitted. "With her policies."

"Did you notice his eyes?" Trowa said, as if not hearing Nichol at all. "Walker must have had a very big influence on my home colony."

Nichol quietly laughed a good while, but neither would explain the joke to Sébastien who pouted until he noticed that Lucre managed to sneak inside for an outer row seat. No one would allow him inside if he wasn't welcome. Sébastien intended to wave, but never got the other boy's attention.

Hilde Schbeiker came next with another woman Sébastien did not know. "They represent the south," Trowa instructed in a quiet voice. "Hilde is kin to our Nichol. And Lady Une is a veteran of the first war."

"She looks like a princess," Sébastien spoke before he realized and earned a chuckle from his near, listening aunt. Trowa set his hand on Sébastien's leg. The boy felt his face turn hot as Lady Une glanced his direction, but only for a moment. They all stood as Queen Halyna's attendant announced her arrival and the meeting started.

^^^

Many conversations about trade and sea tariffs highlighted the early discussion. The thought of vast oceans of water made Sébastien drift into thoughts of his mother. Her soft, white skin and pale blonde hair. She would put both hands onto his cheeks every time just before kissing his forehead. He wished he could remember the laugh that went with her smile, but when he almost came to it Sébastien heard Aunt Sally's laughter instead.

He did not mind. But he sometimes wondered if it meant Aunt Sally had to do all the laughing for his mother.

"If he's in agreement, what problem is there?" Halyna raised her voice and Sébastien jumped with surprise. He shook his head when Nichol looked for a source to Sébastien's alarm. Trowa crossed his arms and had an unreadable expression.

"No advantage to it. He's a boy," Heero responded dryly.

"Of my own age," Halyna glared at her father.

"A merchant is not a nobleman. How did you get this idea in your head?"

"Your example, for one," Halyna said. "You married for love."

"I loved someone of proper station." Heero didn't bother looking at her, which Sébastien understood as an adult with their mind already set. Nichol had told him that Queen Halyna had been raised away from her parents for most of her life. Even with all of Nichol's love, Sébastien longed for his mother and did not see his father often enough. He sat on his fingers to keep from chewing them.

"Then who is there?" Halyna challenged. "I hear no suggestions."

"Heero, why not let the girl..." Duo started.

"She's not a girl," Heero interrupted. "She is a Queen."

"I can speak for Omri as a good man," Quatre put his hand on the dark-skinned man's shoulders. Sébastien realized that Halyna was talking about the man who Nichol and Trowa knew. Studying him more closely, Sébastien saw Omri's face blushed and his hands were in fists on the table as if he would stand up and shout if he were not controlled by a greater calm.

"I must speak with Heero," Wufei added, speaking for the first time. "He is a good man. I have worked with Omri and it was satisfactory. But he is only a Maganac from the fourth colony. It would be no different if she married a craftsman from my home or an archer from the third colony. The line must have a more worthy heritage."

"Perhaps you should marry her," Catherine teased, but her comment made everyone at the table quiet. Sébastien held his breath.

"After the war, I have taken vows," Wufei spoke calmly into the quiet. Lady Une turned to look at him then.

"It's very simple," continued Catherine. "Quatre's married. I am as well, for what that's worth and Barthomieu betrothed."

"Convenient," Nichol muttered which took Sébastien's attention away to notice his father scowling, a finger tapped against his forearm.

"So much for the second colony," Catherine said with her hands briefly lifted into the air. "No one from the first colony or the south will be accepted. Nor Peacecraft's spawn. Who does that leave us but foreigners? My brother?"

Sébastien sensed both men beside him going very still.

"Hang on," Nichol said, a clear violation of his privilege. "I don't like where this is going." Sébastien found Nichol's fingers wrapped around his left hand as if they might suddenly leave the room in a mad dash. The boy tensed.

"Tomas," Halyna said quietly. "You may not speak here, but I forgive you the outburst."

"I can speak," Trowa uncrossed his arms. "And do not like what that idea means for my son. Why has this conversation led to me, of all people?"

"You are colony born nobility," Catherine said without turning. "And should have married before now if you didn't want to be the best option for our Queen."

"Father," Halyna said quietly, turning to Heero. "This is my kingdom. A new world is starting here in this place and new rules need to guide that. Please allow me to follow my heart."

"Three against two?" Duo grumbled. "What does the south say?"

Lady Une looked at the liquid in her goblet. "I see danger all around if we cannot solve this elegantly. Heirs do not always come from lovers."

Sébastien could feel the increasing warmth along his left side as Nichol silently fought his temper. The boy thought the idea of his father marrying Queen Halyna a very silly one. But with the long books of lineage he memorized for his lessons, Sébastien knew that history found such ideas to be important. For Sébastien, in that moment, he thought the entire idea absolute rubbish.

"What kind of woman do you think I am?" Halyna stood, leaning on her hands. "I came today for a happy announcement. Not a quarrel. I'm surprised by the old fashioned ideals being clung to at this table." She looked briefly at her mother, then she sighed, "I will not marry Trowa, even if he acquiesced to the demands of this table. I am not cruel to someone who has been so kind to me."

"What about showing kindness to the rest of this table?" Wufei asked, curiously. "We do not want to go back to war so quickly. Perhaps we were better off with the Peacecrafts than this new claim to the throne."

"Wufei," Heero cautioned.

"Simply reminding our queen of her shallow roots," Wufei replied coolly. "No need to spare her the truth. It is how the fifth colony demonstrates our loyalty, especially with the vast garden of equally qualified flowers in our palace."

^^^

"The most unproductive, useless meetings in the whole of the... what is Heero thinking? And Hilde... she just sat _quietly_." Nichol paced the room while Trowa sat on the bed with Sébastien between his knees. The boy enjoyed reclining on his father's chest, ear pressed against the thin shirt so he could hear the steady heartbeat.

"Nichol," Trowa said. Sébastien could hear the word resounding in his skull.

"At least your sister remains consistent." Nichol pulled out the chair and sat with his head in his hands, fingers tangled into the curls. "I suppose she would have been delighted to have you fit in as the Queen's consort."

"Nichol," Trowa started again. "Besides Halyna, the girl I trust, my two most important people are in this room. I do not wish to leave you."

"But..."

"Perhaps we should think longer on this."

"What about Sébastien?" Nichol looked up then.

"That's the most important detail."

Sébastien had never heard his father sound more fierce, so he tangled his fingers more tightly into the shirt.

"As soon as we decided to relax," Nichol leaned back and spoke to the ceiling. "I think I hate today."

^^^

They sat like that for a few minutes when Sébastien pushed up and tilted his head to listen. "What's that?" he asked.

Nichol slowly shook his head, but Trowa sat up as well. "I hear something," Sébastien's father said. "I should investigate." Untangling himself from the bed and Sébastien's tired limbs, the tall man nuzzled another kiss into Sébastien's hair. "Be good, my boy."

"Yes, Papa," Sébastien murmured, finding the spot of residual warmth and curling his body into that heat.

After briefly dozing, Sébastien woke to Nichol gently shaking his shoulder. "I have to answer the alarm," he said. Sébastien could hear the criers if he listened, but it all sounded very far away.

"Go back to sleep, Sébastien."

Everything smelled like his father and he heard Nichol's protest from the meeting while his hand squeezed Sébastien's fingers. Too tight. Too tight.

"Sébastien, wake up."

The boy flopped onto his back, eyes wide and breathing heavily from the dream. He rubbed his eyes. A dark head came into sight. A wide grin.

"Lucre?"

"Yes, it's me. We've got to go. Come along."

"What is it?" Sébastien vaguely remembered Nichol's farewell and the mention of an alarm. "Is it an attack?" _Who would attack?_ Sébastien heard the thought in his father's voice.

"Who is it?" Sébastien mumbled.

"What?" Lucre found a hooded cloak and pushed it into Sébastien's arms then yanked the boy from the bed so he was standing. "Put that on. It's dark outside and chilly."

_Lucre is not allowed in your rooms._ Nichol's voice and his rule. Lucre broke it so often. It wasn't so strange.

_Why do you need to go outside?_ His father again.

"Why?" Sébastien balked at the next tug against his smaller frame.

Lucre hesitated his face a thundercloud of emotion and Sébastien expected to be forcibly shaken, but after a moment the older boy replied, "The prisoner has escaped. Your father told me to get you to the safe house. You remember the drill."

Sébastien rubbed his eyes again. The thoughts made sense. He heard Nichol's voice again, _Why didn't I come for you?_ But the thought made Sébastien briefly angry.

"I can take care of myself." He shoved on his boots.

"I see that," Lucre huffed a laugh. "Come along, shorty."

"I'm not short," Sébastien followed.

^^^

The halls were empty and Lucre kept an even stride that Sébastien could manage without getting left behind. Lucre didn't want them to get separated, exactly as he should if he'd been told to bring Sébastien to the safe rooms.

"Ah, Lucre," Sébastien paused, looking at the turn they did not take.

"This way, hurry." Lucre motioned with his hand.

Confused, Sébastien followed. _You're going the wrong way._

"Almost there," Lucre reassured, putting a hand on Sébastien's shoulder. "It's for the best, you see. I heard what they said today. You heard it too. _Equally qualified flowers._ You and me."

"We're supposed to be Queen Halyna's loyal guard," Sébastien responded. Nichol had explained it to him. _You give her a promise to keep her safe and not to hurt her._

"Spare me," Lucre grumbled. "But if you'd been older, she would have married you."

"I'm only eight!" _Where are you going, Sébastien?_ The boy looked around as if his father had spoken nearby.

"Come on, just a little further," Lucre said. He took Sébastien's hand.

"Where are we going?" Sébastien stopped. _He's taking you some place you don't want to go._

Sighing, Lucre grabbed Sébastien around the middle and hefted him like a sack of the potatoes he so much liked to eat. "Stop kicking."

They passed the wall. Sébastien realized they'd gone far enough in the dark to be outside the palace.

"Well done, son."

Sébastien twisted his head to see a shadow of a man. He tried to shout, but then he saw the figure had no face. He wore a mask of metal that only showed a bitter smile. Then the smile was too close and the cloth at Sébastien's nose had a horrid smell.

The last thing he heard was Lucre asking, "Why didn't you give me that before, Father?"

^^^

Sébastien wanted Nichol. He wanted his father. All he had was a blanket, which he pulled around him as he huddled in the corner of a small, strange room. Then the entire world seemed to shift. It was the changing motions that prevented his feeble courage from getting up to try the lock on the wooden door.

He'd been awake for a few minutes. He remembered his father kissing him and then Nichol responding to the alarm. The alarm must have been for the masked man's escape. The Peacecraft in the mask kept in the dungeon had been loose and he had Lucre. And he had Sébastien.

_Why would they take me?_ The thought was his own. He couldn't bring any advise from either his guardian or father to mind. He wiped his palms along the blanket at his up-bent knees. He was going to try the door.

As soon as he put his bare feet on the ground, he better saw the light-weight shirt and pants that had been put on him. He push his hair back from his face, and keeping his eyes fixed on the handle of the door, he moved across the floor without looking down.

He tried not to count his steps and failed. _Four. Five. Six._

The door opened on its own and a woman stood on the other side. He stared at her.

Her mouth was partly open and her hands full with what looked like breakfast but was really a lid over a bowl and a piece of bread. He knew her. She was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Oh, my boy," she put down the tray and Sylvia Noventa embraced him from her knees.

"Mama?" Sébastien cried.


	2. The Wrong Idea About Men

Even though he could hear Sally singing in the next room, Sébastien knew instinctively that they were not at sea. The salt on the breeze was not enough. The stillness of the bed. The bed. How long would they stay ashore gathering supplies? No one would answer his questions, which was never a good sign. But Sébastien was learning how to get his own information.

He sat up and pushed back his hair from where it fell loose around his face. He refused to let them cut it and took the time to tie it back into a thick tail.

Slipping his feet into shoes, he stepped out to the open walkway and stretched. Sally's voice came from the next room, but he turned away toward the daylight. Leaning against the railing, he could see the shore, the water and the _Peacemillion_. Squinting, he could almost make out the effort to make repairs. She was an old boat. Older than Sébastien.

"What are you doing up?" he asked without turning. He could smell her, the fragrance of a colony-raised girl.

"You might be a Noventa, but you certainly have the instincts of the islands." She leaned next to him with a twinkle in her eyes.

Sébastien twisted so that he could see her upturned lips. She was a few years younger than him, just a couple, but girls made things complicated much faster. He didn't react when she said, "Lucre would have kissed me by now."

"Then go waste his time." Sébastien glanced back at the boat. The fifth colony was the closest to the mainland. Sally had to keep _Peacemillion_ and Sylvia on the sea to respect her exile under Queen Halyna, but Wufei's friendship let them linger longer even if it wasn't necessary. Wufei mostly ignored Sébastien, even though he had approved the engagement.

She leaned against her arms, lifting up on her toes. Sébastien noticed she wasn't taller than him any longer. "He was gone from my rooms in the morning."

"Don't be crude," Sébastien grumbled. "The fifth colony has enough bodyguards on you as it is. _No one_ sneaks into your rooms."

"Well, I'd rather it was him. He's nicer than you are."

"We don't get to pick our families," Sébastien said quietly. "When the time comes, what we'll be given is a responsibility."

"Which I'll do better than Queen Halyna. How old is she now?"

"You don't know her," Sébastien scolded. "Don't talk like you do." Looking for food, the gulls noisily came closer to the pair of watchers. He was half Noventa and half from the third colony. Likewise, he'd spent half his life on the mainland and almost that again at sea--not truly able to escape either, but part of neither place completely enough to call it home.

"Sébastien?" His mother's voice. She came toward them and smiled when she saw their guest. "I didn't expect to see you so early, my dear."

"I was overly excited by your arrival. I couldn't sleep, ma'am," she replied. Her red hair had recently been cut above her shoulders. Sébastien had to admit it made her look more like a woman. She was nearly the age Sylvia had been when the Noventas had been cut from the throne all those years ago.

Sébastien fought back a hysterical laughter from watching them exchange pleasantries. His mother had arranged for him to marry the daughter of the man who had _killed_ Noventa. Oh, it made sense in every effort to create the ideal heir to the kingdom. When they married, a child would become a descendant of the colonies, Noventa and Treize Kushrenada.

Sylvia offered, "Would you like to spend the morning with me, Mariemaia?"

***

"So you did come to this place." Sébastien held the branches away so he could better climb up the hill just outside the city where Wufei entertained guests. "Has it been awful?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Lucre rested in a small clearing. He stretched, long and lean, with his arms behind his head. The long branches still blocked most of the sun, but patches of light scattered warmth around them. Sébastien sat next to his friend and pulled at the grass.

"Being grounded here with that girl," Sébastien clarified. "While your father is off doing whatever... do we know what yet?"

Lucre smiled without opening his eyes. "You think too much, 'Bastien. Have you tried kissing her yet? She's getting very good with her tongue." Sébastien sighed heavily enough that Lucre did open one eye. The older man said, "You should move more quickly. How old are you now? Fourteen? Your Mariemaia has not the patience. And she does complain if she catches me sneaking around to avoid her. I'm not her betrothed!"

"Mother says that Mari did not grow up well before they found her," Sébastien commented. "You shouldn't tease her. It gives her the wrong idea about men."

"She already had the wrong idea." Lucre sat up. "I'm simply showing her men can sometimes be sweet as well. Nothing else. Which, I remind you, should be _your duty_."

Sébastien didn't care. He spared no thought for Mari when they were at sea, but he did miss Lucre somewhat. "It's not the same on the boat without you," he started. Lucre didn't reply and watched with raised eyebrows. "I spend a lot of time in the ropes pretending I cannot hear mother calling me for more studies."

"Yes, I don't miss her _studies_." Lucre rested his arms over his knees.

"You were coddled as a child," Sébastien grumbled. "Don't talk about my mother that way."

Lucre laughed, "And what were you yourself doing just now?" They sat quietly. The space had been discovered by the two of them when Sylvia had allowed the boys to go exploring during one of their annual meetings with the fifth colony. Then their play area became a battleground after Milliardo Peacecraft yielded Lucre's right to the throne in favor of marrying Treize's daughter to Sébastien. The heat had been unbearable that day when Lucre had pinned Sébastien onto his stomach, arms twisted behind his back and the sweat dripping along his forehead mingled with Lucre's tears.

_"I hate you, and I'm glad it's not me,"_ Lucre had whispered.

Sébastien glanced at Lucre who continued to stare into the distance. His dark-haired companion had changed after that incident. He became more friendly with Sébastien and briefly married one of the island girls which took him away from the _Peacemillion._ She had died in childbirth. Lucre didn't talk about her or the strangled, nameless infant.

"I hear that Halyna is pregnant again." Sébastien noticed he did not tell Lucre something surprising. "But they have not celebrated the news publicly..." No point when one after another aborted too soon. The Queen had married her Maganac merchant against the wishes of her council. Sébastien knew that her kingdom would splinter with a simple tap if someone chose to strike at it.

"Just as well that it wasn't your father, eh?" Lucre's smile was bittersweet. "Then you'd be losing _siblings_."

^^^

Lucre was absent from the noon meal, so Sébastien endured listening to Mariemaia's account of the Peacecraft heir's sky-blue eyes and midnight curls. Sébastien ate his fish and wished for potatoes. The island soil was no good for them and the roots he chewed instead were too textured for his liking.

Wufei had spoiled the girl according to Sally who watched them from across the hall. Sébastien had a seat at the main table, a significant move from the low table where's he'd sat in the mainland palace. The older woman pierced him with her eyes and Sebastian wiped at his mouth as if he might have something on his face to draw her attention. He realized that his own mother would have spoiled him as well if Sally hadn't balanced the relationship.

"You remind me of Tomas," he had accused her not long after he'd found his new home on Sally's boat. "You act like my friend until you want me to change my behavior. Then it's all rules all the time."

"We won't be talking about Nichol." She had given him an important rule then, one that Sébastien had broken once and not again afterward. His gentle mother had gone quite pale and refused to see him for several days after he'd asked for Nichol.

He spent the afternoon meditating in the temple. The colorful architecture surrounded by ferns, palm trees and native parrots had been dedicated to the fifth colony gods. The temple also included rooms where Mariemaia could not follow him. Then with no appetite he returned to pick at dinner. Lucre's seat remained empty.

"You don't know either? Maybe he went to visit his father?" Mariemaia noticed Sébastien's long staring at the vacant spot. Then her tone teased, "I thought he told you everything."

^^^

Several days later, Sally found Sébastien by the boats. He had sat so his feet were just under the water. "I remember when you didn't know how to swim," Sally said joining him.

"Back then I could barely imagine a body of water larger than my bath." Sébastien smiled at the recollection. The faces of the people in the palace slowly lost their definition or were replaced with others better known on the island. "I thought I was being swallowed."

"The colonists call it being reborn." Sally wiped her brow. She still wore her hair in braids, but the texture was like the ropes of her boat and the color nearly gone. He watched her through squinted eyes as the water reflected the sun across his sight.

"Did it happen to you too, Sal?" he asked.

"A long time ago," Sally nodded.

"I'm worried about Lucre," Sébastien admitted. He didn't mind confiding as much with her. Sally gave Lucre compassion more readily than most other adults who spent time with the youngest Peacecraft.

"Have you told your mother?" Sally took his silence for the _no_ that it was. "You are becoming a man with your secrets, aren't you?"

Sébastien put a hand over his heart. "I can feel something is wrong. And I know that he left for the mainland."

"How do you know that?" Sally quickly took back her question. "Another secret, I see. Don't have too many of those without someone to share them with. I want someone to watch out for you."

"Who, Sal? Mariemaia?" Sébastien enjoyed a brief sneer. Then he recited, "I know... I shouldn't judge her too harshly. She'll be a better queen with me to watch over her."

"But she has a lot of growing up to do before that happens," Sally conceded. "What are you going to do, my boy?" _My boy,_ echoed the voice Sébastien believed to be his father.

"I want to get him back."

"He's not sworn to you," Sally reminded.

"Then that was my mistake," reasoned Sébastien. "I should have realized this long before now."

Sally nodded slowly. "I wonder from which parent you get _this_ possessiveness..."

^^^

They picked out a small, sturdy craft that could take Sébastien the distance to the mainland. Reviewing the map, Sally pointed out the currents which might lead him astray and how to reach his best designated landing place.

"Thank you." Sébastien glanced at her through the candle light during the last evening of their conspiracy. "I don't understand exactly why you're helping me, but I appreciate it."

"Better to help you do what you've a mind to do than lock you away in a room," Sally shrugged. "Sylvia wouldn't understand, but she is your mother and loves you too much."

"I thought she was more cunning than to let emotions overrule her plans to repair the kingdom." Sébastien knew Sally's answer before he heard it.

"In all things except _you_, my boy..."

^^^

Sébastien learned a few more details before traversing the channel of ocean to the mainland. Lucre had not gone alone. And he'd sought out information regarding a man called Trant Clark, who had once served under Heero Yuy and Hilde Schbeiker until the brilliant tactician and soldier revealed himself to be a traitor.

He had plenty of time to think about those details while on his journey, but, as his feet stepped onto the mainland shore and he hauled the boat into a hiding place, Sébastien's mind swam with memories of his father.

"Too dangerous to go see him," Sébastien challenged himself to be reasonable. "Find Lucre and then return to the _Peacemillion_ to wait. Wait..."

He looked up at the sound of a strange bird. Was it alarmed by Sébastien or someone else? Or had it moved on it's own, unconcerned? Not wanting to take a risk, Sébastien pressed himself against a tree until boredom drove him to quietly travel inland. He checked the map and periodically fidgeted with his belongings as he made his way to a small village to inquire.

"Two blonde men in as many weeks!" The innkeeper exclaimed before Sébastien could get in a word. "You're about to tell me that you're related, I knew it!"

Sébastien began again, but instead a bulging arm hustled the boy into the dining room. An empty bowl dropped onto a table where Sébastien had been forced to sit. Then a buxom girl came around to toss the garden mix.

"Been a good year for the crops." She stared at him while precariously serving the meal. "You have eyes as green as the ocean," she murmured.

"I don't know what ocean you mean," he spoke from embarrassment, but she didn't take insult--laughing instead. So much for going unnoticed. He quietly apologized to Sally while eating the food. He couldn't enjoy the taste as he spent more time wondering how much he should pay them. No one had told him a cost. Too much or too little would make a story Sébastien didn't want to leave behind.

"Do you want an empty room or one that is occupied?" The inn keeper came by again. Sébastien must have looked as confused as he felt, so the older man leaned down to indicate a partner for Sébastien's bed.

"Ah, no thanks." Sébastien hated the sharp pitch in his voice.

"She may give you a discount," the innkeeper persisted.

"The boy declined."

Sébastien flinched at the second voice as another figure came close. He knew that voice. It crept into his nightmares even after he'd met the man behind the mask.

"So he _is_ your kin. Welcome back, sir."

Milliardo Peacecraft glanced at Sébastien then smiled at the business man. "Some privacy please."

^^^

"No one recognizes you," Sébastien said dumbly as Milliardo steered the younger boy into the room they'd purchased.

"People see what they want to see," Milliardo corrected. "And these doors are not free of eavesdropping, so mind your speech."

Sébastien seemed unable to remain standing and dropped to the bed. Lucre's father watched as if he'd willed the action and nodded once.

"I was surprised when Sally explained your determination to come here," Milliardo said. "After all that we had done to keep you safely away from your enemies. To have saved your life, at great risk, only to have you rush back premature..."

"Is Lucre with you?" Sébastien asked, eager and terrified. He knew that Milliardo could hurt him, but the man _had_ supported Sylvia's contingencies.

"Ah, friendship..." Milliardo lifted his chin to analyze Sébastien from another angle. "Lucre became impatient. He has managed to get himself captured and faces execution."

The tone of delivery was so disconnected from the grim message Sébastien's reaction delayed over the puzzle. "What? When?" His fingers squeezed the material covering the bed.

Milliardo sat on the floor. He seemed to age even more under the pull of gravity. "Someone took his mother from me. And now, they take him as well."

"Is he with Halyna? Perhaps my father could stop them," Sébastien worried.

"Yes, fathers can fix everything," mocked Milliardo. Then his eyes changed. They were narrow, unlike Lucre's petty tempers the thought behind that glare was as sharp as any sword. "Did you expect Lucre to be with me?"

Sébastien kept to a slow nod. "He didn't leave alone. And he meant to find someone here. A soldier from the south called Clark."

"Halyna allows no visitors to my son. You have no right to speak with Lucre, but you will find a way," Milliardo planned. "Find what he knows. For this purpose, I will guide you safely to your father."


	3. A Thread That's Bound To Drop

Sébastien slept in the wet, remained wet, and traveled wet while in the company of Milliardo Peacecraft. After the first evening at the inn, Milliardo had established a stealthy manner of traveling through the northern woods. Sébastien knew somewhat of the geography, but the proximity of the trees left him befuddled. The sky and the navigational stars used by the sailors were hidden from him. Even in the clearings where Sébastien could observe the clouds swiftly rolling over the sky, the night stars were an incomplete compass.

Milliardo, on the other hand, kept a quick pace guaranteeing that the older man had no doubts about his destination.

Sniffling and wiping at his nose, Sébastien tried to hide the fact that he did not feel well. Showing a weakness could provoke any sort of unexpected reaction. Milliardo only helped the boy because he wanted something from Sébastien. The man's son, Lucre Peacecraft, was being held as Queen Halyna's prisoner.

Lucre was the primary reason why Sébastien had returned to the mainland as well, so it served _his own_ purposes to agree to their temporary alliance. Sébastien's father had helped topple the Peacecraft's brief time on the throne. Then again, Sébastien's mother had been key in helping Milliardo escape.

"You're how old now?" Milliardo spoke. They were the first words shared between them that were more than _We'll stop here._ or _Eat_.

Sébastien didn't have an opportunity to answer. The taller man, who had been walking a few feet ahead, stopped and turned around to grab Sébastien by the shoulders. The boy kept still, not quite meeting the analyzing stare but not looking away either.

"I remember your father at this age. His quietness. The way he moved with his knife and sword through the battlefield. Then when he did speak, he had this tone of certainty and _arrogance_ that comes with youth. But you? What do I see in you?" Milliardo did not release Sébastien, but he did lean away. "You are just a boy. Too much time spent with women."

_You left Lucre with your sister,_ Sébastien remembered, but didn't dare provoke his only guide.

"Or perhaps this is the result of a peace which..." The man did let go then. He reconsidered his conversation and started again. "The peace which Relena always went on about...

"Would you like to learn a trick with the knife, boy?"

The unexpected question allowed Sébastien to sense his gut answer. _Yes._

"I saw your father use this technique many times. He almost seemed like a jester with the odd movements to his arms. The first time I saw it... we all laughed. Until he started cutting veins faster than we could stop him..."

"You would show this to me?" Sébastien inquired, cautiously.

"I'm sending you to a place where you might need such skills to get what I want," Milliardo reasoned. "And you have his lanky limbs from before he put on the muscle."

Sébastien tried not to flinch as Milliardo yanked Sébastien's right arm, pinching through the fabric to the muscle, bending the limb at the elbow, lifting it and then checking the full length of Sébastien's reach.

"Put down your bags," Milliardo instructed. "Then I will give you this skill."

***

That evening when Sébastien fell asleep he did not even notice the wet for all the soreness of his undone physique. He had some endurance from managing the ship, but aside from pointless play fighting with Lucre involving long sticks Sébastien had never experienced a similar practice. Milliardo had neither complimented or scolded. The man had only corrected and confirmed Sébastien's attempts to recreate the use of the knife. The trick was that Milliardo could not show Sébastien the same move. The boy had to discover it in his own self--to inherit the skill from the body his father had given him.

When he opened his eyes, he could smell the fire and food from it. But the daylight was wrong. Sébastien sat up quickly, twisting to see that Milliardo lounged against a tree in the distance. Near him was an older man on his knees. Sébastien rubbed his eyes. The man was in a northern uniform.

Milliardo noticed Sébastien was awake but went back to his conversation.

Blinking away the pounding of his heart, Sébastien lay back on his blanket. He couldn't make out their words, but the sound of the men's voices lulled him into a doziness.

"Sébastien." Milliardo had come close. "Otto is going to take you to the palace. You're going to have to ask for your father but he won't be there."

"What?" Sébastien let cry out before he could regain his composure. "Why is that?"

"It seems he is in the south..."

"And Tomas?" Sébastien inquired, urgently but with a more tempered volume.

"It seems your father's shadow went with him, but I'm certain that news of your return will abbreviate whatever Heero's spawn has them doing regardless of _her_ wishes," Milliardo advised. "They'll take you in safely--at least at first. But you can never be too cautious. I'd strongly encourage you to establish a relationship with my sister. Relena is still living in the same place she did when you were a child. She is not without _influence_..."

Nodding, Sébastien turned away. His father wouldn't be in the palace. Neither would Nichol. Sébastien would have to move on his own. Independently.

"I will go with Otto," Sébastien determined. The brief nervousness which made it difficult to breathe passed into a calm anticipation. Perhaps independence was what Sébastien wanted.

"Are you certain about this, master?" Otto crossed his arms. The looming man had height and width advantage over Milliardo, but his deferment of authority was absolute.

Milliardo made a low scoffing noise. "I'm master of nothing," he said with bitterness. He raked gloved fingers through his white-blonde fringe, most of the length of hair tied back away from his face.

"I'll take care of Lucre," Sébastien announced, surprising himself most of all. Then he added with less certainty, "I'll do what I set out to do."

***

More than a few people cast long stares their direction as Otto led Sébastien into the city. From an elevated box, the city crier had been repeating the royal news when he stopped mid-sentence to chew his jaw speechless and staring at the boy.

"Who is he?" Became the most common murmur among the thin crowd.

Sébastien knew he had aged, grown taller and more tan than the last time he called this place his home. By rights, no one should recognize him. Then he glanced at the stoic and resolutely silent broad back of Otto and decided that the attention had to be amplified due to his escort. He moved quickly to keep in that shadow and schooled his attention so that he did not look so much of a tourist.

"Uncle Otto!" a girl's voice called out, and soon enough a lass in full bright green skirts and covered in a full head of brown curls had grabbed Sébastien's escort by the waist.

"Nadja, don't be so rough with the man." A woman stepped out from a shop and moved to intercept the girl. Unlike the girl, who had cross dark-eyes, the woman was pale and blonde and as unlike Sébastien's mother as possible for all the similarities. He _knew_ this woman.

"Miss Dorothy," he said quietly, knowing he was correct when her eyes cut toward him after fussing over the girl.

"I know two people who will be happy to see you." Dorothy Catalonia had a dryness to her chuckle that resonated with the brief memories from his childhood. Sébastien knew that Dorothy and her husband, Quatre Winner, had been wanting a child. It was the sort of popular gossip that even an eight year-old encountered, but this Nadja was far too old to have been born in the meantime. Sébastien noticed she had to be his own age, or there about, which made him somewhat happy because when he glanced at her again he noticed she had a very pretty look about her. For her part, she didn't drop his gaze either.

"I found him halfway here and thought it best that he arrive unharmed," Otto said, leaving out many details. Sébastien reminded himself to do the same. He had his story prepared.

"I'm certain the Queen would want that too," Dorothy agreed. "I think it might be best if I forget the rest of my plans and come with you to the palace." Otto tipped his head, and Sébastien relaxed. Dorothy had been a friend to his father and as the wife to a Gundam knight, Dorothy held her own opinions on royal issues.

"May I come with you?" Nadja asked, curiously tilting her head. Her petite nose had an upward curve that drew Sébastien's attention to her lips when she spoke. He blinked a few times to return his attention to Dorothy.

"Sébastien Barton, this is my daughter, Nadja Winner," Dorothy introduced. "Yes, I'm sure you'll hear soon enough that Nadja is ours through adoption, but no matter what anyone or Iria Winner has to say about the matter, she is legally Quatre's heir."

"Well met," Sébastien replied properly, but indulged in a grin to match Nadja's own.

"Sébastien Barton might understand my circumstance somewhat, mother," Nadja commented in a light tone of suppressed laughter.

"Sébastien Noventa-Barton certainly does," he replied, gaging their reactions. Dorothy simply raised her brow while Otto choked back on a guffaw.

"Noventa," Nadja pronounced, putting a finger to her cheek as if thinking.

"You have been neglecting your studies," Dorothy scolded. "Well, enough entertainment for the commoners. Let's get young Sébastien whatever-he's-calling-himself to Halyna's court so we can see how the royalty likes this development. And, may I say, you've grown up somewhat handsome, young man."

"Thank you," Sébastien squinted. It didn't compliment him as much when Nadja frowned in spontaneous skepticism.

"And a bath," Nadja contributed her own suggestion.

***

A remembered conversation from time spent with Lucre somewhat eased Sébastien's nervousness as he was received by the rather pregnant Queen Halyna and her husband. The Queen had sharp blue eyes that efficiently skinned Sébastien so he felt completely exposed to her judgment. He didn't dare look away and instead concentrated on the steady movement of his body and the rhythm of relaxing his breaths. Gradually, like the rough waters of the sea, her opinion of him became more gentle and she dropped into her seat with a suddenness that took everyone by surprise.

"Sébastien Barton!" she said, shooing away the concerned hands of her husband. "I thought this baby would come here and now she made such a fuss as soon as I put my eyes on you."

Not knowing what to say to that, Sébastien stayed quiet. He didn't know what to expect from the Queen or her strange comments. To many people, Sébastien was her direct competition for the throne if he made a proclamation for it.

"I think she must like you," Halyna said in the direction of her stomach. Omri, a citizen of the fourth colony, put his hand on her shoulder. Halyna had married him against the wishes of her advisers. Sébastien knew that meant the Queen made emotional decisions. Perhaps he would be welcomed without restrictions.

"You must stay, at least until the child is born," Halyna continued. "If she wants to meet you so much... and I'm certain if he hasn't already heard, your father will let nothing stop his return to court once he knows you're here."

_What stopped him from fetching me before?_ Sébastien thought behind his amiable smile. But that reservation wasn't the complete truth, Sébastien very much wanted to see his father again. He loved his mother, but part of him resented being _stolen_ most of all.

While Omri leaned over to discuss something with the Queen, Sébastien looked around the room. It wasn't the largest hall in the palace, but the decorations had been tastefully chosen flowers like those seen in the southern kingdom. The walls were covered by complimentary banners lacing together the colors of the south, the north and each of the five colonies. Sébastien sucked in a breath. That had been the goal of putting Halyna on the throne, a royal line tying together not only the divided regions of the mainland but also the individual islands.

"I will have the servants open up your father's rooms. You may stay there," Halyna instructed. She gave her husband a furtive glance. He glowered in return.

_Apparently they do not agree,_ Sébastien reasoned.

"He's welcome to stay with us as well." A few paces behind Sébastien, Dorothy had remained quiet until then.

"As always, we appreciate your generosity," Halyna declined with a shake of her dark-hair. Sébastien knew his chances to see Lucre were better if he stayed in the palace, but somewhat of him regretted the opportunity to see Nadja with regularity.

"Moreover," Halyna said over the audible grumble of her husband. "Your arrival is convenient to me. I now have opportunity to grant the last request of Lucre Peacecraft and can be done with him."

Sébastien's head flinched backward as she suddenly had his full attention. _Breathe normally,_ he shouted to himself. _Don't panic over what that_ means.

He realized she waited for him to respond. "How so?" he managed, only just, not to tremble. He knew it was likely that Lucre would already be killed, but he'd let himself _hope_... for something different.

"He wanted to see you." Halyna's smile seemed disproportionate to her words, "Before I have him executed."

***

Sébastien took small comfort from having Dorothy and her adopted daughter walk with him toward his father's rooms. A numbness had overcome his nervous reaction to definite knowledge of Lucre's impending death. The same stillness left his thoughts sluggish by the juxtaposition of his current self and the old halls where he used to chase after Lucre as younger children.

Dorothy might have surmised as much and she kept up a conversation with Nadja that easily transported them to a doorway that overwhelmed Sébastien with a different emotion altogether.

"I'm home," he whispered. But even saying it aloud seemed a betrayal to the _Peacemillion_ and his years at sea. And his mother.

Dorothy's eyebrow jumped again, and she laughed. "Maybe so. That would explain why your father spends as little time here as possible. Trowa insisted that they not touch one item from how you had left it in your room." She set her arm around his shoulder and said with gaiety, "He's such a romantic, your father. He always knew you would come back to him."

"I have, but..." Sébastien murmured. He didn't know where to look. The first room even smelled like his father. Or maybe it didn't and he was fooling himself, but it choked him enough that he had to wipe away the unexpected flash of first tears.

"He did _beg_ the Queen to let him go after you," Dorothy said, putting her hands on her hips and looking around the room. "It could use a breeze in here." Nadja let her curiosity take her from one place to the next looking at everything. Sébastien hardly moved in from the doorway.

"Or was it Nichol who begged?" Dorothy amended. "Either way I know that Halyna banished your Uncle _Tomas_ from her receiving room for several years since he could talk about nothing else."

"I see," Sébastien said limply.

"I thought you might want to know," Dorothy finished her own circuit of the room after patting the bedspread and grimacing at the cloud of dust. "Since neither of them might mention the same."

"Thank you," he replied, propriety alone reminding him what to say or do. He suddenly noticed the weariness of the journey pushing him to sleep. Immediately.

"Back where you started," observed the older woman. "But you need rest, and whatever Halyna says, this room isn't fit for _anyone_. I don't think I could carry you back to our holdings, but I know someone who'd loan you his room for less than a song."

***

"Duo Maxwell, open this door." Dorothy hammered her fist against the unyielding barrier. "If you're hung over again from celebrating with the priestesses, I swear I'll..." Nadja giggled.

Suddenly, enough space pulled open to reveal a shirtless body and bleary blinking of a man near to Wufei's age. Except where Wufei kept his hair nearly tied back, this man had a bedragged appearance with his mane of hair as wild as a lion's.

"A goddess has arrived," Duo Maxwell crooned with more energy than his outward state suggested. He straightened somewhat when he saw Nadja and his smile became more gentle and less like he meant to devour someone. "Young Lady Winner, I'd gladly be of service to someone of your charms."

Dorothy made a clucking sound with her tongue as if she were long familiar with and bemusedly accepting of this man's personality. "We're just leaving. However, this young man is in need of a place to sleep and certainly would not interrupt your own."

"Who?" Duo swung his head around so that the full length of his braid slipped over his shoulder like a brown and grey designed snake. Sébastien stayed his ground and endured a long sniffing expression from the older man. "This is Trowa's kid," he said at last. "Alright then."

The door remained open but the man retreated to wherever he had come.

"Don't worry about him," Dorothy consoled. "He's very agreeable and open-minded about who he keeps company."

"I'll take your word for that," Sébastien said, rediscovering some of his withheld humor. Then with a fleeting appreciation of Nadja's dark eyes, he added, "I hope I'll see you both again."

"I'm sure of it," Nadja answered for them both.

"Indeed," Dorothy said smartly moving them both down the hall. "Take care, young Sébastien."

Left with the dark welcome of the open doorway, Sébastien slid inside Duo Maxwell's chambers. A low fire gave some light from the hearth, but otherwise Sébastien was blind to his surroundings until his eyes adjusted.

"Watch yourself," Duo chuckled as Sébastien knocked against a writing table. He heard the glass with quill pens fall over and rushed to put it right again. Duo continued his directions, "Follow around it and I have a full length couch where you can nap."

The furniture wasn't overly comfortable, but after several nights on the ground, Sébastien was grateful for anything. Soon enough Duo tossed over a pillow and blanket. The blanket had a faint aroma to it that Sébastien didn't recognize but it was pleasant. Without any effort, the boy lost consciousness to his dreams.

***

"I think I understand why you're doing this, but how long are we just going to sit here?"

Sébastien tossed onto his side. In his dream, he had been walking along the beach of the fifth colony. Staying ankle deep in the waves, he'd managed to avoid Mariemaia who didn't want to go into the water. But then he heard someone ahead. He could see a figure, then two, on the sand ahead. One of them waved to Sébastien and was speaking,

"I thought you were insane pushing through the night, but here we are and I'm certain he's slept quite enough. You won't until you've had a chance to talk to him, so I'm going to..."

Keeping one eye closed, Sébastien looked at his surroundings. He remembered he was in the palace and the blanket over him had been a gift from the wild looking Duo Maxwell. And that voice was...

"Tomas!" Sébastien sat up so fast he went dizzy for a moment before he could look to the side where his childhood guardian sat nearby. And with him was a much longed for presence. "Father."


	4. Like a Candle Wasted From Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited with his father, Sébastien learns not everything on the mainland is as it seems at first glance.

In the same way that the city appeared similar, but also nothing the same—Sébastien listened to the sound of Tomas Nichol's voice more than the words. Certainly, he could repeat the stories of his childhood abduction if asked, but both Nichol and his father had pointedly refrained from asking about the past years of his absence.

Perhaps they didn't want to know.

Perhaps they knew that Sébastien often had wanted to return to being the child they remembered as well. But nothing could undo the time Sébastien spent on the Peacemillion held hostage by his own mother. He only could move forward. He tightened his fingers into the material of his trousers.

Nichol had neglected to cut the hair from his cheeks, but it made his smiles seem more genuine and nothing could disguise their warmth. Nichol had moved both father and son to a separate place where they could sit at a table overlooking the gardens and a servant girl brought them all sweet wine. Sébastien tasted his with immediate relish, but for all that he wanted permission to drink it the flavor wasn't to his liking.

Filling his cup again, Nichol stopped long enough to take a drink and only the shrill sound of a songbird in the garden interrupted the more obvious silence. Sunlight made everything colorful green highlighted by the softer white petals of the blossoming trees. Sébastien cautiously sought out the similarly green eyes of his father. Aside from his lean body, that color was the most similar feature he had inherited from Trowa Barton.

"What brought you back, my boy?" Trowa asked. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. A breeze blew between them as did Nichol's concerned murmur.

"Do we need to discuss that now?" Nichol asked, but set his mouth closed soon after. Apparently he saw something in Sébastien's father indicating the question remained.

"It's Lucre," Sébastien started, testing their reactions. Nichol's brown eyes widened in surprise, but Trowa seemed to have expected exactly that response. "I was… I am afraid something bad will happen to him. And he's my friend."

"No other purpose but that?"

"Trowa," Nichol tried to interrupt again.

"Can I trust you?" Sébastien retorted, feeling the ache of his long journey and the suffocating pressure of the palace. Even when he was a hostage, his life had been more carefree knowing that Sylvia Noventa loved him and wouldn't let him come to harm. Had he misjudged his father?

"Yes," Nichol said, swinging around in his seat and reaching out to take Sébastien's hand. "Of course, you can trust us..."

Trowa might have smiled slightly, but it was immediately lost in a long exhale. "You'd be wiser not to trust anyone here. I suspect you've noticed as much. Dorothy said she met you in Otto's company?"

"Yes," Sébastien acknowledged. "Dorothy knows everything that happened to me since I arrived."

"How did you escape?" Nichol kept Sébastien's hand under his, but only briefly. The boy didn't mind so much for the moment.

"Easily," Sébastien shrugged. "Sally helped me. And yes, she's still with mother." He answered the coming question.

"All this way… for Lucre?" Trowa returned to the original purpose of his questions.

Sébastien nodded, "He's _Lucre_. He's important to me."

"This seems familiar somehow," Nichol sat back to elbow Sébastien's father in the side. "Friendship over all else? Trowa, he's your son without a doubt."

***

When the shadows grew long and the sun had disappeared behind the trees, they were left with the comfortable silence of shadows. His father seemed able to enjoy the stillness as much as Sébastien, which was remarkable to the boy. Nichol moved around, coming in and out to shake his head at seeing the unmoved father and son. Eventually, Nichol settling down to read a book until the light became too dim.

"It's about that time," Trowa said, turning to look at Nichol as if waiting for something unpleasant. Sébastien felt the rising tension, but couldn't discern what instigated the change.

"Just me, this time or do you want me to take your son as well?" Nichol said with a cascading pace of resignation and brief frustration.

"You don't mind going with Uncle Tomas, do you?" Trowa stood and waited for Sébastien's reply.

Nodding in acquiescence, Sébastien followed both men inside the manor rooms. The servants had been busy. A new fire crackled in the hearth and a dining table had been set for two. The herbs from the meal awakened Sébastien's own taste buds.

"Don't worry," Nichol said as if able to read Sébastien's thoughts. "I'll make sure we get something as well. Perhaps even visit Dorothy and that lovely daughter of hers." He said the last loudly enough that Trowa knew he was included.

Nichol pulled open the door to leave the main chamber just as a woman outside had lifted her hand to knock. She had hair that was a yellow as a dandelion, but Sébastien could tell from her appearance that something enhanced that brilliance. Her age was the same as his mother or Sally.

"Ma'am," Nichol murmured, stepping aside to let her enter first. Sébastien moved as well. Her eyes cut to him only the one time and then pointedly ignored him.

"Trowa," she said, with delight. "I heard from Quatre that you had returned early. And I'm glad to see that I was expected."

"As always, Iria," Sébastien's father greeted her with an embrace and a broad smile unlike any he'd spared for Nichol or Sébastien all day.

"Come along," Nichol said softly, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"What? What was that? Who is she?" Sébastien asked as soon as they were out of the building and moving leisurely from their rooms in the palace district toward the main streets of the city. "Uncle," Sébastien tried again, finding himself relaxed and more comfortable to speak his mind when it was only Nichol.

"That," Nichol started with a huff. Then re-evaluating the harshness of his tone, Nichol said more quietly, "She is Quatre Winner's sister, Iria. She does work with your father."

"That didn't look like work," Sébastien objected. He remembered the way Lucre had doted on his former wife.

"She is of the right social class and standing to be friends with… ah, hell, kid," Nichol scratched along the back of his neck and abruptly stopped walking. "I don't much care for it either. But whatever makes him happy…"

"And they're always alone?" asked Sébastien. Around them a night-bird sang between the rhythmic chanting of the insects. Lights flickered on in the windows of the building at the bottom of the hill and across the twinkling-black river.

"I'm not allowed to stay," Nichol said, looking away as if to make certain they were not overheard. "Your father doesn't talk about her with me—not that he should," Nichol admitted hastily. "But I don't think you have to worry about her getting on with any half-siblings for you to worry about. She's far too old for…"

"Perhaps it isn't like that at all," Sébastien pondered aloud. "She is a Winner, yes?"

"What are you saying?" Nichol replied in a way that made Sébastien suddenly happy. He asked as if he cared to hear and consider what the boy thought.

"Mother said that he forgot to be careful of scheming women. That he fancied her so much that he was easy to fool because she was a _girl_," Sébastien confided.

"Your father loved Sylvia…" Nichol defended.

"I know," interrupted Sébastien. "I know he truly did. And that's why my mother's plan worked."

Nichol's uneasy smile was brilliant in the near-dark. "My boy, you've changed."

"I am fourteen years old now," Sébastien agreed, returning the smile warmly. "I've been around the world. I know so much more than the child you remember."

Nichol considered for a moment, then he solemnly answered, "I've traveled the world, and the older I get--the more I realize I don't know.

"Now tell me what you couldn't before… _how is_ Sally?"

***

At some point, Sébastien had found a drink that he both could stomach and enjoyed. Nichol had been so delighted that he'd bought a round for the entire tavern and it must have been those gracious souls who escorted them safely back to the palace. He somewhat remembered Nichol putting a sloppy kiss on his forehead after Sébastien was folded under his bedding.

He pushed his hair back from his face and wiped that spot. As much fun as he could have with Nichol, the man still saw the infant he helped recover and raise with Trowa Barton.

Sitting upright, Sébastien looked around the room. He'd been given a different place to sleep. The simple but expensive furniture suggested a room Halyna might give to a visiting lord. The single window was covered by a gently blowing curtain, which allowed slivers of daylight in like rippling currents.

Had Nichol gone back to his father's rooms or was he in a similar chamber?

The drink from the night before left Sébastien somewhat unsteady, but he pulled back the curtain and the brisk air steadily revived his better senses. Sally had commented on the Noventa tolerance and he thought he understood better what she meant.

Thinking of his mother pulled Sébastien into the puzzle of his father's new mistress. He didn't have enough details to rationally explain why a Winner would pursue Trowa Barton. The Queen's husband was from the fifth colony after all. But the way she completely shut Nichol out, _certainly that wasn't his father's original intent_?, gave Sébastien enough cause to suspect more devious intent.

_I should talk to Dorothy,_ Sébastien decided as he laced his boots. He didn't know how to make that happen or if Halyna would allow him to go about the city unescorted. He thought he might convince Nichol, when a knocking at the door interrupted his progress.

"Yes?" Sébastien waited, then once finished he went to open the door himself. Looking up into the earnest expression of Otto, Sébastien inquired, "What is it?"

"I have a message for you from Miss Relena," Otto said, simply. The man's gaze dropped to the floor. Sébastien wondered if he had been transformed into a prince as this Otto seemed to show incredibly more respect than he had during their traveling together.

Holding out his hand did nothing, so Sébastien said, "What is it?"

"She says you must ask to see Lucre now, by note. I will take you to the young lord…" Otto winced at his phrasing. "Then deliver your request in a delayed fashion to allow you some time."

"What is it?" Sébastien barely could control his voice. "Has he come to some harm?"

"Hurry," Otto stammered.

***

Unlike the main floors, the basement of the castle was ill kept. Familiar with the guards, Otto gained them both access to the lowest levels. The place smelled dank and torchlight revealed a thick mold along every stone. Otto sneezed.

They went past several unused cells, the doors open. Some of them were solid frames while others were bars that might allow an arm to push through to the shoulder. Sébastien held his own torch and swung it around to better see whichever direction he wanted to look.

Shackles were along the wall. In one place, Sébastien lifted them to test their weight. As the metal clanked back into place, he studied the large dark stain at about skull-height. He turned away and walked faster to keep up with Otto.

"Alex," Otto said to the last guard.

_The only guard?_ Sébastien observed.

"The keys please," Otto requested. "How is he?"

"Yeah, yeah, old man," Alex flipped the keys around his finger. "I've got it." He winked at Sébastien as if they were sharing a joke, and at Otto's expense. Sébastien frowned, but the other man had already turned his back to pull out the key to the only closed door. It was of the sort Sébastien had observed earlier, solid with only a slot with which to view the inside.

"You've got company," with a sing-song lilt, Alex called into the unlocked room.

Sébastien heard a low whimpering of the words, "Leave me alone."

"Lucre," he shouted, immediately pushing away both men to get to his friend. He knew that voice, so weak sounding, but very much his friend. "Lucre?" He paused, unable to see in the almost pure darkness and his eyes had yet to adjust. He did, however, feel the drop in temperature as if he'd walked from spring into winter. Rubbing his arms, he saw movement and turned toward it.

"Lucre, it's me… Sébastien," he hesitated. What would he find? How long had Lucre been kept like this?

A deeply rasped inhale and then Lucre coughed.

"Water? Do you have water?" Sébastien ordered, hardly caring that he had no authority on the mainland. Being his father's son had to mean something in this place, at least water.

"Of course," Otto obediently turned.

Regretting that he hadn't sent Alex away, Sébastien amended, "I will speak to him in private."

Alex chuckled, "As you wish, I won't tell…"

"Go!"

"Is… 'bastien," Lucre murmured. Sébastien dropped to his knees and pulled the sitting figure into his arms. Like his surroundings, Lucre seemed excessively cold wherever Sébastien could feel him. The other man had lost weight. Sweat made his skin clammy and slick.

"You're ill," Sébastien said, feeling stupid and helpless. "But I found you."

Lucre hacked and laughed. "See me once more before I'm killed."

"I'm not going to let that happen," promised Sébastien. "My father… or Nichol… _I'll_ make sure of it."

"Nice try," Lucre swiped his tongue over his lips. His face became more and more clear to Sébastien the longer they were together. "But Halyna's claimed my life. Today… tonight."

"What?"

"Alex told me… bastard came in to gloat…" Lucre weakly dropped away from Sébastien's embrace to put his back against the wall. "Watch out for him. He likes… boys."

"Ah, what?" Sébastien repeated, dumbly.

"I thought I had escaped from him, but… hell, I wish the poison had worked first." With considerable effort, Lucre patted Sébastien's cheek. "Don't look so… shocked. So many people protecting _you_…"

"Poison?" Sébastien returned to the last question first. "You're not ill?"

"I am _very_ ill." Lucre's next cough lasted for several seconds. "But damned too healthy… so long to get to this point with it eating at me. Otto puts it in my food."

"But, I'm going to help you escape," Sébastien whispered. "I won't let you die. I didn't come here to watch you die!"

Lucre tugged Sébastien to bring his face closer. The boy could smell the foul breath on his neck. Then words were softly uttered into his ear. "He's back…"

Pivoting on his knees, Sébastien saw the guard, Alex, leaning in the doorway. "I told you to leave," Sébastien ordered.

"You're Barton's aren't you?" Alex said, confidently. "I didn't recognize you at first, you'll have to forgive me. A fellow can get forgetful when he's stuck down here as long as I have been."

"I'm the son of a Gundam knight," Sébastien confirmed, warily. He had the ranking authority over a common soldier, that much he was certain.

Alex chuckled, "Listen to you. Kid, you don't get anything you haven't earned yourself. Take your old man's bed warmer… what's his name, Nichol? Now he earned a little respect when he tricked me a few years back. But in all that time what he never noticed… well, he's sort of thick between those ears. He does like it so much better when your father is telling him to do this or to do that."

"What are you talking about?" Sébastien spoke, incredulously. "I told you to leave."

"Now on the other hand, take... me, for example. I've warmed a few beds, but it's strategic. Kind of like how your _mother_…"

Repositioning his weight, Sébastien felt the shifting of the short knife in his boot. He'd forgotten it was concealed there when he'd laced his boots earlier, but during the urge to _hurt_ that man by any means… Sébastien slipped it out. His limbs were still limber from his long, deep rest—loose and flexible like Milliardo Peacecraft had taught him.

"Sébastien?" Lucre noticed the naked blade first, but fortunately that brief cry of surprise didn't alert Alex.

The strike was so over quickly that Sébastien almost regretted his speed at crossing the short distance between them. The skillful cutting of the knife had already destroyed both of the man's arms. The point rested at Alex's throat. Hesitating only a moment, Sébastien fought to speak through his clenched teeth. He shoved the taller man into the wall, pinning him with a forearm across the chest.

"Arrh…" Alex rasped.

"Say what you want about my mother, but… not…" Sébastien thrust the blade deeply into the skin. Part of him wondered how he had gotten to that place. The blood pouring from Alex's body covered them both and stuck their shirts together. "Not… " He shifted his slick fingers for a better grip on the blade and pulled it sideways. Alex's eyes rolled upward. "Don't talk about…"

He stepped away, taking the blade with him, and Alex dropped to the ground like a discarded scrap.

Sébastien swallowed. Giving the blade a futile cleaning swipe along his trousers, he returned it to the hidden boot sheath. Then while turned toward Lucre, he stated "I killed him because he hurt you."

"As you say," Lucre replied. "So now what?" His face seemed in conflict between surprise, concern or dismay.

Sébastien thought he understood, but his own blast of emotions were collapsing as an unexpected calmness began to form around his heart. The last of his adrenaline helped him lift his friend.

"That poison will not kill you. Neither will Halyna," Sébastien explained in simple terms as if Lucre might miss what he was being told. "I will."

Lucre smiled, "I see. Well, go ahead then." He tilted his head to the side, exposing his throat.

Finding his own smile, Sébastien shook his head. "Not today. But your life is mine all the same. Now stand up, since you suddenly seem more lively."

"Got lively watching you fight..." Lucre pushed himself from the wall and balanced a moment on his feet while finding that he could stand and take steps. "I could _feel_ your adrenaline. Where did you learn to do that? When did you?... because you certainly hadn't…"

"Milliardo Peacecraft taught me," Sébastien explained. "Come on. Both our fathers are making mistakes that we have to put right."


End file.
